


DUST - Other Things (Asks, Drabbles, etc)

by etchedbox



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Chapter warnings, F/M, NSFW BE WARNED!, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etchedbox/pseuds/etchedbox
Summary: To read DUST (the main fic), clickhere.People ask questions about the DUST series on Tumblr. I answer them with small blurbs. Now including drabbles.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Mandalorian/Reader, Mando/reader, din/reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 128





	1. How does Reader feel about Din?

_Question:_

**_How does Reader feel about Din? Does she know how he feels?_ **

_Reader feels:_

You plod around the Crest, the Child in your arms. He’s restless, so you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Din’s sitting on a crate in full armor, cleaning his blaster with a mysterious fervor. You watch as he disassembles it skillfully, the metal clicking apart under his hands within seconds.

“I’m gonna miss you Kid,” you say. “Are you gonna miss me?” Grogu reaches up instantly, and you smirk. “Thought so. Not like your grumpy dad over here.”

Blaster in his hands, Din hesitates, his shoulders stiffening. He doesn’t immediately respond to your teasing as you pace around the hold. “Having fun over there?” His voice is perfectly level.

“Yes,” you turn to him. “I always have fun on this ship.” There’s not a particular reason why you feel like sharpening your wit on Mando today, but deep down, you recognize it’s a shield. You feel pathetic, waiting on his every response, reading into every one his movements like it’ll miraculously illuminate how he’s feeling.

“Good to know.”

You’re a bit disappointed he doesn’t engage further, but you busy yourself with putting Grogu back in the hammock. Maybe Din didn’t get your joke. The memory of his bare chest shuddering under your fingertips as he laughed with you flashes through your mind; you hear his chuckle, rolling and deep, an echo in your ear. You want to hear him laugh again, but he’s remained relatively cheerless on the latter half of the journey back to Nevarro.

 _Must be the lack of sleep._ You squeeze his shoulder, giving him a smile.

“You…” He doesn’t turn to you, just keeps cleaning the blaster as he speaks. Your smile goes unnoticed. “What are your plans when you get back?”

Sitting on the crate beside him, you try not to wince. You’re sore. It’s not just the obvious; you still feel him _everywhere_. “I’m not sure, actually.” You try not to visualize the various positions (sexual or not) that you’ve both been in this past day. Part of you wants to reach out and touch him, but he’s cleaning his blaster with an agressive focus that feels beyond you. _Click. Click. Click_. “How about you?”

 _Click_. “No plans.” _Click_. “Have to find a place for the Child.”

“Din…” Your voice shakes for a second, but you catch yourself. “Thank you. It’s been a good ride. Flying with you.” _Why did you have to say it like that?_

He nods, still cleaning the blaster.

“I’m going to go check on the…” You don’t even finish before you’re standing, moving through the hold as fast as you can. “I’ll let you know when we’re almost there.”

You climb the ladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


	2. Does Mando dream of the Girl?

_Question:_

**_Does Mando dream of the Girl?_ **

_Din dreams:_

The first time Din dreams of the Girl, he wakes up panting, grappling for the dim light within the cot. As it floods in, Grogu peers down from his hammock, inky eyes wide with surprise.

“It’s alright, Kid.” Under his helmet, Din clears his throat. “Nightmare.”

It wasn’t a nightmare. Far from it. Din and the Girl were as bare as animals, legs intertwined, him leaning over as she stared up at him. She was looking at him, really _looking_ into his eyes— he wasn’t wearing his helmet. She was beautiful as she reached up, her hand caressing his face. That’s when things start to blur, his imagination unfurling. He wishes he knew more.

Din passes a hand over his eyes as the Kid coos.

“I’m alright,” Din mumbles. “Promise.”

_It’s only the Girl’s second night on the Crest._

The third night, Din’s dream is different— a translation of the first. Din’s never had many sexual dreams in his life; if he has, he doesn’t remember them. And he definitely doesn’t remember them in such vivid colors, every moment painted in startling detail: her lips parted as she looks at him from over her soup, eyelashes fluttering as she murmurs her reply to a mundane query. It’s half a memory… that’s exactly what happened tonight. But in his dream, Din is without his helmet once again. He leans over, capturing her lips with his.

Other nights, he dreams of the wind on his cheeks, her hand fastened tightly in his. As he grows to know her, the dreams morph to his darkest desires. They are bent at the waist, his hand in her hair, his hand on her neck as he controls her breathing; she gasps through her arousal, begging for more.

In waking, he is distracted. When he studies her face as she greets him, he thinks: _I saw you last night. And you saw me._

Who plants these ideas, these thoughts? Towards someone he never thought he would find. One dream. Then more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


	3. Din's Kinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions BDSM, choking, anal, breeding kink etc.

_Question:_

_**What are Din's kinks? Are there any he's embarrassed to bring up?** _

_Din’s kinks & unspoken kinks:_

Din likes control. Bounty hunting pushes him towards the unknown constantly; he is always fighting against the elements, natural or not, dealing with the unpredictable. On a good day, he’s dragging a cowering bail-jumper back to the Crest. On a bad day, Din returns bloody and broken in some way.

So when it comes to sex, Din likes control. In a vague sense, he’s comfortable with admitting that. It’s apparent to most of the partners he’s been with, and it’s obvious to the Girl. He likes to control the pace of their sex, their position; he likes lifting her, if only to show how much _bigger_ and stronger he is. It’s already a huge turn-on to see her struggle to take him on a normal day, to see the stretch of her around him. He likes blindfolding her, leaving her in the dark, her body trembling in anticipation of his touches. It makes him feel like some sort of deity, especially when she moans his name.

When it gets to the finer details, that’s when Din has difficulty elaborating. To tell the truth, he’s never had the opportunity to really _indulge_. He’s never been with anyone long enough to form these… _ideas_.

During these past few weeks with the Girl, Din has learnt that saying he likes control is intentionally vague. He wants to fuck her as she tries her best to pilot the Crest, up until she’s an incoherent mess over the controls, unable to do what she does best. And that’s just the beginning.

He doesn’t admit that he wants to see the Girl in binds _as well_ as at the blindfold, bent over and vulnerable, waiting for him. He wants to tease her so much, to edge her _so much_ that she’s begging for him to breach every entrance of her body. It’s so dirty, so depraved that Din blushes just thinking about it, his mouth going dry at the audacity of his own impulses. It’s become a slight ( _maybe not slight)_ obsession. Whenever he’s fucking her from behind, whenever he spreads her cheeks, something deeply primal awakens; it’s the pure visual of it, how… _delicious_ she looks. He wants to push a thumb into her asshole, to feel his own cock move through her… And recently, he’s had dreams about the Girl begging for his cock _only_ there, pleading for him to push through the tightest ring in her entire body. More than anything, though, he wants to make it feel good for her. He dreams of the Girl losing control as he finally takes her tight little hole, her loud moans filling the air, her legs quaking at the unexpected pleasure of it.

Other times he wants her quiet, gasping for air through her arousal, completely at his mercy. He wants to squeeze her throat while he’s inside her, to feel her clench _around him_ as he does. It’s too rough, too much—

Din wants control.

There _is_ at least a decade age difference between him and the Girl, and though he knows she’s been with others (boys, he likes to say), he imagines being her first. What would it be like to teach her everything from the start? He could instruct her on how to make him cum with her mouth, guide her into slowly choking on his cock, her eyes staring up him, glazed over with lust. And there’s something… something about teaching her how to _take_ her own pleasure that drives him insane.

The last kink he tries to suppress is _messy_. It’s a messy, messy, thought, and one that catches him off-guard. Din doesn’t really think of himself as… a paternal figure. At least he didn’t, before the Kid. And he’s never had an inkling of what it would be like to… well… to actually _fill_ a woman, to have his child grow inside her. It’s not like it’s something he actively— even consciously— wants yet, but the thought of the Girl, the capable pilot, just helpless and round, utterly dependent on him for absolutely everything including her own bodily protection… _because_ of him… It’s a kink. That’s why he loves watching his cum leak out of her.

Of course, he hasn’t told her _any_ of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


	4. Does Din have a daddy kink? Does the Girl?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Daddy Kink (yup you guessed it), praise kink

_Question:_

**_ok, since we're talking about breeding... does Din have a Daddy kink? how would he react to the girl accidentally calling him daddy during sex? 🥺🥺_ **

_Din feels:_

Din doesn’t know what name to put to it yet. Right now, it’s more of a feeling _,_ an urge that swells whenever the Girl asks for help. It’s not even sexual at first. Though he tries to bury it (for his profession), Din _likes_ helping people; he’ll grumble and feign reluctance, but there’s something about lending a hand that makes him feel _good_. Being an older man that’s lived the life he’s led, he shouldn’t believe in heroes, but he does. So whenever the Girl asks for his help, whenever she struggles with a panel or tightening a socket and needs _him_ to fix it— it gets to him.

The Girl has a way of listening that makes Din feel like the most important man in the galaxy. It’s the way she gives him her undivided attention, as if the sparse words that spill from his mouth are the most interesting thing she’s ever heard, or that they require the utmost concentration to comprehend. He understands that this isn’t just reserved for him; the Girl has this public charm that tempts everyone around her. It has little to do with her looks, though her beauty definitely doesn’t hurt. It has more to do with her warmth, the warmth she often tries to hide even though it ends up just exuding from her anyways. Her smile is dazzling, but when she _listens…_ when she listens, her lips fall open, her wide eyes staring up at Din in admiration. 

Din knows more than the Girl. She’s definitely capable and well-traveled, but she’s younger than him by more than a decade. She’s seen less, and by default, she knows less. So, she often asks him things about their destinations. Din’s all too happy to elaborate, clearly laying out everything she wants to learn. He’s not selfless… he likes being in her attention. There is a _twist_ though, a twist that goes back to the same urge that resides in Din. It’s her innocence in these very moments that corrupts him, that makes him want to do the most depraved, filthy things to her. Sometimes, he likes to pretend that she needs him to teach her _everything._ He likes to praise her already, but the idea of telling her exactly what she needs to do to please him, please _herself?_ It would drive him mad if he kept it in his head for longer than a second. So Din will keep mumbling on about the icy plains of Maldo Kreis or the dunes of Tatooine, but really, he’s thinking about making the Girl get on her knees to thank him for the lesson. Or, he could just bend her over his lap.

He makes sure to keep his voice level, though, even if he’s blushing under the helmet. She would never know from the way he talks. If _she_ was the one who brought it up… then Din would be completely prepared for it.

* * *

_You feel:_

You think Din’s a hot dad. To be honest, you’ve never really… dabbled in that arena before. You’ve been too preoccupied, too surrounded by wise-cracking pilots who lived life fast and for themselves. Din’s… different, to say the least. He’ll walk around Nevarro with the Child nested in the crook of his thick arm, and _Maker,_ that’s sexy. Even sexier if he has to pull out his blaster at the same time, for one reason or another. It’s dumb. You know it’s your biology, the basest of all instincts, but with Din, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You don’t even want to fuck him when you think about it. You want to get on your knees and take care of him, to show him how good you are; you want to hear his deep voice whispering your praises, hear his moans as he loses himself in you. A large part of why you were even attracted to him in the first place was the whole daddy thing. When he explains something to you, in that nice, patient, level way he can often muster (because sometimes he does get frustrated) — it’s the most tantalizing draw _ever_. One time, when you caught him trying to teach the Child something, you just about melted. I mean… can you imagine him explaining something _else_ to you? Something in… the bedroom? It’s enough to make your knees weak. He’s already domineering in that department, but if he was to lean into it fully, to embrace that role, you’ll combust.

Good thing he has no clue. You’ll keep your sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


	5. What does Din think of the Girl's Laugh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Warnings!

_Question:_

_**I would love to read what Din thinks of reader's laugh. Or when she's sleeping. Just little things like that.** _

_Din thinks:_

Maybe it’s a surprise, but the Mandalorian has a sense of humor. There’s amusement to be found in most situations, even if it’s retroactively discovered. The thing is: Din’s never really had anyone to laugh with… or someone to laugh at him. He’ll chuckle with amusement at one of the Child’s antics, but other than that, Din lives a quiet existence. 

With the Girl, though, he’ll make a remark, one of his dry little comments, and she’ll just… laugh. It’s one of the most magnetic things about her, how easily she gives into her own glee. Sometimes she’ll play at being more reserved or coy, but Din knows better. He’s addicted to the sound of her laugh— he could listen to it forever. He definitely isn’t a _comedian_ of any kind, but he’s found himself making an effort to force her to smile, or even better, laugh. He likes how her eyes crinkle at the edges, her cheeks tightening as her mouth draws upwards over white teeth. It’s beautiful, and _dank farrik_ , it just makes him feel _awesome_ , even when they’re in darkness and he can’t actually see her. 

Even better is when they _both_ laugh. 

He knows it’s wrong of him to covet her smiles like this. There’s one example he can recall, before the Girl knew his name, a perfect illustration of why laughter is a balm for so many things:

Din is tired. Exhausted, even. He’s chasing the Kid around the Crest, trying to get his son back into the crib. But the little green being is determined to evade him, weaving between his dad’s legs at every opportunity, ducking into nooks and crannies that Din _definitely_ can’t reach. 

“Kid,” Din grunts out. “No. This is not a joke.” He sticks out a gloved finger, trying his best not to raise his voice. “Kid, come back here!”

All Din sees is a green blur as the kid eludes him yet _again_ , and as quick as Din is, he can’t seem to catch—

“Come here, buddy.” The Child perks up at the Girl’s voice, running instantly into her arms as she stoops to pick him up. 

_Traitor._

Din can’t help but grumble. Firstly, he’s been trying to catch the Kid for _twenty minutes_. Secondly, he’s a tiny bit jealous. 

“You hear that?” The Girl stares down at the tiny green baby in her arms. “This. Is. Not. A. Joke.” She sticks out her lower lip, wagging her finger in an exaggerated manner that Din is ninety-nine percent certain is supposed to be a caricature of him. _Does he really sound like that?_ “It’s. Not. Funny,” the Girl continues. The Kid babbles, tiny giggles, hands reaching up to wrap around her finger. “Not funny at all.” 

“You put him to bed then.” Din starts to turn away. 

“Wait.” The Girl settles herself on a crate, caressing the Child’s ears. Then, she shifts the big green ears in her hands so it looks like the Kid is moving them by himself. “ _I’m so sorry, Mando. It’s not funny, I’m a womp rat and I’m sorry that I made you so grumpy, I didn’t mean it—“_ Her voice is quiet, and she’s trying her hardest not to move her lips at all, speaking in a different tone. 

Din gets that’s she’s trying to apologize _as_ the Kid. The Kid, meanwhile, is completely oblivious, squinting up at his dad.“I know he’s not saying anything,” Din snaps. “He doesn’t even _know_ how to speak—“

 _“I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I’ll only eat three frogs tomorrow-”_ It’s so silly, so obviously ridiculous that the Girl breaks down into laughter before she finishes, and the Kid laughs suddenly too, hands outstretched towards his father. 

“That’s not- It’s not funny.” _It’s funny._ It’s more than funny… it’s cute. Din steels himself against the onslaught that the Girl has launched.

“Then why are you laughing?” 

“I’m not… I’m not laughing.” Despite himself, Din starts to smile. Luckily, she can’t see that under his helmet.

She can definitely sense it though. She has a sixth sense about these kinds of things. Emotions. “You are definitely laughing-“

“No, I’m not.“ He really doesn’t sound convincing anymore, even to his own ears.

“ _Hmmmm_ …“ The Girl turns to the Kid. “What do you think? He sounds awfully suspicious. Is your dad lying?” 

The Kid _squeals_ in response _,_ and Din stiffens…

Before he lets out a chuckle. 

“Fine,” he says, the amusement deadly apparent in his voice now as his body shakes. “Fine, it’s a little funny.” Every sore point he’s been feeling drains out of him, every little bit of frustration. “Maker, it’s so stupid—“

“Thought so.” The Girl beams up at him through her eyelashes, and at that moment, Din knows he would do anything for her. “We got him, Kid.”

While she sleeps in the pilot’s chair that night, Din creeps up to the cockpit to check on the comms unit. The Girl’s body is curled, twisted into a ball as she mumbles her dreams. He leans over her, brushing a finger over her temple. She nuzzles her face into his touch unconsciously, and Din’s heart stops; for a moment he holds the world in his hands, fragile and fleeting. As he makes his way back to the cot, he thinks: _funny how I found you._


	6. Taste (A Drabble... "Chapter 7.5")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a very little drabble playing off the “I’ve been trying to hunt with your taste in my mouth” line from chapter 8. This goes, chronologically, between chapters 7 & 8.
> 
> Warnings: it’s just smutty and achy, oral stuff, cum stuff…. inspired by call me by your name. small mention of blood.

_Din thinks:_

Din _can’t_ think, that’s the problem. Usually so sharp, he grapples with the most simplistic plans; he now suddenly struggles to compute the most basic building blocks of his dangerous profession. Before the Girl departed, it was easy enough. Even during a fight, Din’s eyes would drink in the enemy, making note of their various weaknesses and their various strengths. If it was more than one enemy, it wasn’t that much harder. _I like those odds._

In comparison to him, most foes are woefully incompetent when it comes to battle. His entire culture as a Mandalorian hinges on the strength of the warrior. Weapons are his religion. 

A bail-jumperon Tatooine. An easy snatch by most accounts. Karga had told him it would be a quick one, like picking fruit off a tree. It’s not like Din even dislikes Tatooine anymore; it’s still dry and rough around the edges, but then there’s Peli, who always feeds him and fixes up the Crest (for a price). This time around, however, the ship doesn’t need fixing. In fact, the ship’s looking and working the best it has in a while, and Peli’s not afraid to tell him. 

“Back so soon, Mando?” Peli’s raucous laughter fills the hanger. “I’m not complaining, not if I get to see my favorite little womp rat.” She takes the baby into her arms and coos over him. “Where’s your girl?”

“What?” Din doesn’t mean to sound terse. “What girl?”

“Oh, come on, Mando,” Peli groans. “The pretty girl! The pilot! _Your_ girl!”

“She wasn’t my girl,” he grunts out. 

“If she _wasn’t_ your girl,” Peli says. “Then I’m not so sure she would’ve fixed your hyperdrive… or the power lines… or the navigation…” 

Din doesn’t really know how to respond, so he lets Peli grow the list, highlighting every last bit of machinery that the Girl had tinkered with during her time on the Crest. 

“… Oh and _Mando,”_ Peli finishes pointedly. “The walls of your ship aren’t soundproof.” 

This makes Din blush red hot under the helmet. “Thanks for your concern,” he says, switching the subject eagerly. “Do you mind watching the Kid for a few hours?”

Once upon a time in Tatooine, Din and the Girl had spent hours on the Crest, doing anything but sleeping. He remembers every second of it in vivid detail, the smell of her skin, the scent of her arousal as he kneeled between her legs to taste her. He remembers her face, her sweet face, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as she slumbered. If ever Din had doubted the propensity of the human mind to live in the past— to _remember_ — he doesn’t now. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t touched her at all. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t tasted her.

Now he’s forced to hunt, to wake, to sleep— the taste of her still on his tongue. 

It takes him ages to track the bounty. He keeps seeing her among the dunes, the wind blowing in her hair as she smiles at him. And when Din finally _does_ locate the bounty, it’s pitch black in the desert. The moon hangs low in the sky as two lone silhouettes finally face off, blasters up. 

“Put it down,” the Mandalorian tells the bounty. “You’re not going to get away like this.”

The bounty, a Rodian who doesn’t speak Basic or any other language Din understands, makes a sound of distress. Body language. That’s all Din’s got to go on. That’s fine… typically. Usually, Din’s smart, his mind a blade sharpened over years in this profession. Now, though, he’s dull, heavy, struggling to form even a straightforward plan as he stares at the scared Rodian. It’s only inevitable that the job gets messy. 

The bounty fires multiple shots from his blaster before Din can say another word, knocking the Mandalorian squarely off his speeder bike and into the sand. The beskar armor absorbs every shot, but before Din can stop him, the Rodian hops onto to the bike and accelerates, zooming off into the distance. Din just lies there, the sand getting _everywhere,_ his mouth dry as he struggles to comprehend what’s just happened. In his fury the Mandalorian punches the ground, the sand shifting under the force of his hands as he releases a cry of rage.

That hunt takes two days longer than it should, and that’s not even the worst one. There’s another bounty that takes a week when it should take a day, and another which Din misses completely. Karga senses the Mandalorian’s distress, and he’s clever enough to keep his lips tight and smile. It’s only when Din is sent _back_ to Tatooine, where it takes him too long to secure yet _another_ bounty that Din permits himself to finally admit that something is very, _very,_ off. He sits with the Kid in his arms in Peli’s workshop, observing a Sabaac game that’s going poorly for the older woman. 

“Mando,” she snaps. “I can’t _play_ if you’re going to brood like that. Take it inside the ship.” She jerks her head towards the Crest. “Leave the Kid. You can have this if you want.” As he stands, she throws him a yellow fruit, round and ripe in his hands. 

As he walks onto the Crest, he hangs up his rifle before mentally running through all the parts the girl has fixed. _Power lines_ : no longer leaking. _Navigation:_ no longer intermittent. _Hyperdrive:_ 92% efficiency (up from 67.3%). And that’s only the big picture.

Sitting in the cockpit, Din bites into the fruit. It’s creamy in the center. It’s sweet, but nevertheless, after a few moments in his mouth it still turns to her. He remembers how the Girl lay in this cot, the makeshift blindfold over her eyes, a dainty finger running through the seed which he spilled on her stomach. He remembers how she sucked on that finger, her lips pouted, every beautiful inch of her face relaxing as she finally tasted _him_. She had moaned like it was the most delicious flavor in the world.

 _You,_ he had said.

Nobody had ever done that for him, Din thinks. Nobody in his entire life had ever wanted him as badly. He understood, of course, because he felt the same. When he kissed her one time, that last night on the Crest, on her mouth, she had tasted like him, and he had tasted like her. Their tongues had tangled in the dark. And one time when he had cut his finger while helping her, she leaned forward and took his finger into her mouth, trying to soothe his pain, to heal him. She had licked the sweat off his neck when he was inside her. Blood. Sweat. Everything is missing from his body. Only dust and smoke remain.

For weeks, Din has wished he had never met the Girl. Looking at the moon, he finds that is no longer true. All at once, he knows there’s a reason why he won’t forget.

As Din pushes the last of the fruit between his lips, he decides he has to find her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


	7. Elaborate on Din's Purity Kink?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Purity kink. Mentions breathplay, age difference, etc.  
> TAKES PLACE AFTER CHAPTER 9 OF DUST!

_Question:_

**All you need is an ask? Oh please please could you talk a little more about Din’s purity kink? Has he/ will he show the reader something new? Corrupt her in any new way? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 please?**

_Din feels:_

After he wrecks her on that cliff on Arvala-7, Din carries the Girl back to the Crest. It’s not like he absolutely needs to; she makes sure to tell him that she can stand perfectly well on her own, but he sees how her legs tremble when he hauls her up. Her clothes are a mess, and even though the moisture farm is so isolated, he can’t risk anyone seeing her like this. She’s _his_.

He hardly remembers the filth that spilled from his mouth. All of it was true, of course. It surprises him how many of his fantasies twist around the Girl, morphing her into different versions of herself. It’s the first time Din has experienced anything like it.

Her head rests in the crook of his neck, right under his helmet.

“Have you...” He moves her in his strong arms as he speaks. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”

She shakes her head.

“Did you—“

Before he can finish the question, she interrupts. “I loved it.” Her voice is hoarse. “Honestly, Din, I’ve only…” She’s suddenly shy. “I’ve only really been with one other man before.”

He makes an effort to reply fast, trying to make her feel more comfortable. “I see.” The Girl is so kriffing sexy that he finds it hard to believe. Din had only assumed she was experienced because of the way she looked.

“My first time was with a boy my age, when I was a teenager. Before I ran away from home. I’ve had experiences with other men during the rebellion. But nothing else that went very far. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was embarrassed. I should know more, but I’m used to pretending.” She shrugs. “And it was only a few times. Three and a half, to be exact.”

“Three and a half?” _What the fuck did that mean?_

“I can explain later.”

Din hums, allowing her to continue.

“When I’m with you… it’s… natural. I do what feels good. I don’t actually know anything. I guess you always tell me what to do anyways.” She blushes. “No one else — and by that I mean the one other person— has made me cum besides you.” She keeps talking, and everything she discloses just makes Din’s cock stir again. “I really haven’t done much. Just the basics.”

Din feels a little guilty. If he had known, he wouldn’t have been so rough with her.

“But I want to do everything,” she finally admits, assuaging his fears. “Especially with you.”

“What does everything mean?” He chuckles, but he’s flattered. He’s more than flattered actually.

“You _did_ say you would train me,” the Girl murmurs into his neck. “It could be like lessons, like when I first learnt how to fly, or like when you’re teaching manners. And we don’t have to pretend it’s about the rifle next time, either. You can just teach me how to make you feel good, like how to properly suck your cock, or what you like—“

“Fuck,” Din grits out, almost stumbling over his feet. “You can’t just _say_ things like that.”

“I mean it.” She pouts. “I know you’re older than me from your voice. I mean… I’m guessing. I don’t know how _much_ older you are, but I can only imagine you’re more experienced. If you want to ever… show me things... or… try other things, new things—“

He hushes her. “You’re making me hard again.”

She giggles. In that moment, Din wants to look into her eyes. He wants her to know how old he is, and he wants her to know what he looks like. He ponders this as they travel in silence. It’s a foreign emotion for him.

“It’s just that everything you do feels so good,” she blurts out. “I mean, I didn’t even know that it could work. That it could feel good to be _choked_.”

“You really need to stop,” he scolds. “I can’t… I can’t think when you talk like this. It’s like next you’re going to tell me to buy you bindings, or—“

“What are those?” She stares up at him with those bright eyes.

“Kriff,” he says. “You know, those little… things that some people wear-”

“I would wear anything for you.”

“Just stop.” He squeezes her closer to him. “And… I’m a lot older than you.”

“Really?”

 _What if she hates it?_ But she’s been open with him, so Din prepares himself for her disgust. “Fifteen years at least. Maybe more.”

“Oh, wow.” He’s scared of what she’ll say, but the Girl smiles. “So you’re… _really_ experienced.”

If she keeps looking at him like that, Din swears he’ll just push her to the ground and have her again right here, right in the middle of this blasted moisture farm. “Sweet girl,” he groans out.

“Mando, put me down.” She flutters her lashes up at him.

“We’re almost back.”

“I want to get on my knees,” she tells him. “Please.” A hand reaches down his front, sliding down to grip his already hardening cock.

How can he deny her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> etchedbox.tumblr.com


End file.
